Lover
by Fen-crya
Summary: Told from Hisoka’s POV Point of View. A story of love can only be told through someone who’s had difficulty accepting it. But Hisoka seems to mistake what it truly means to love. While trying to cope with his hardships he and Tsuzuki engage in a relations


_恋人__Koibito (Lover)_

**Disclaimer-** I don't own YnM or any of the characters mentioned below.

**Summary**- Told from Hisoka's POV (Point of View). A story of love can only be told through someone who's had difficulty accepting it. But Hisoka seems to mistake what it truly means to _love_. While trying to cope with his hardships he and Tsuzuki engage in a relationship.

**Pairings in this chapter**- Tsuzuki x Hisoka…Yet again.

**Added Notes**- Why is it so difficult for me to create stories WITHOUT sex? I start a nice story with intentions on leaving hot sex out and what happens? DX TWICE IN ONE CHAPTER G DAMN. I GIVE UP, I CANNOT BE HELPED. XD

Read the story and find out! (There is no hope for me.)

!! means there is a scene change.

' ' means someone is thinking something.

" " means someone is talking.

iro rio na omoi boku no atama ni

hitori de suzushii soyo kaze to tobidasu

mugen no sakura mankai wo haru ni mita nara

yukkuri itami akumu kaeru boku ni totte demo.

hohoemu desu

「いろいろな思い僕のあたまに

一人ですずしいそよ風ととびだす

無限の桜満開を春に見たなら

ゆっくり痛み悪夢かえる僕にとってでも。

ほほえむです」

The many lone thoughts inside my mind

start to fly away with the cool breeze when I saw the eternally

blooming sakura in spring and slowly the painful nightmares to me, although,

I smile.

I've learned that there are many ways to engage in intimacy over the past three years I have become Tsuzuki's partner. Ironically, my relationship had only started a few months ago.

My life on earth was hell, right up to my last shaky breath. I've never had anyone come up to me and hug me or kiss me on my forehead. There was no one to embrace me in a tight hug when I was feeling sad or depressed. I had no one to turn to for help or comfort.

And then…there was Tsuzuki.

Instantly things began to change. All of a sudden I had someone to hold me when I cried, someone to comfort me after a night of horrid nightmares. I became attached to him and his gentle smiles. I welcomed his arms when they encircled me into a hug, and relished in the smell that was entirely him. I'd never felt such soothing emotions in all of my life. It made me feel safe.

Sometimes I would wake from my nightmares to find myself alone and afraid in the dark. On nights like these I always tiptoed from my room, only to silently make it to his. Long ago I'd found the courage to crawl into his bed so I could lie beside him as he slept. On that first night I was hesitant as I cuddled next to his larger form on that bed. And do you know what's funny? In his sleep he rolled over and wrapped an arm around me and pulled me flush up against himself, whispering my name.

That next morning he had never even questioned why I had been sleeping next to him. I think it was because he enjoyed the company as much as me. The night after that I got bolder with my actions as timid cuddling turned to a bolder sense of touch. He would often lie on his side in bed when I found him. When I snuck into his bed I usually slid my hands shakily under his arms to rest over his stomach. They moved to feel the steady heartbeat bouncing in his chest. I would rest my chin on his shoulder so that when I fell back asleep I could rely on his scent to keep me safe. I can still remember how firmly pressed against him I was that first night.

During our days of work we became relatively closer to one another. I stopped yelling at him so much and instead I would ignore his childishness. And he would always keep that cheery smile of his aimed my way. When we were alone he was serious and loving, only trying to make me happy. He would use his spare yen to buy me various gifts, using his lunch break as an excuse to secretly buy them.

And those massages…

Honestly speaking, he has such skilled hands. Often after work Tsuzuki would move those firm hands over various parts of my body, saying I looked too tense. I could have easily pushed him away with a 'no' ready at my lips.

But I never did.

Unconsciously I yearned for his touch, that softness that only came from his hands. His hands were the only ones that never hurt me, no matter where they ended up on my body. Maybe that's why I never turned down his offers.

At first he would start by working his way around my shoulders, rubbing the base of my neck with his thumbs. I was melting under his hands that time, when I let him go further down. I would always have my clothes on; too afraid of what my own nudity could provoke within my partner. But…despite that…He never asked me to take off any of my clothes, not once.

When he massaged my back he always made me lay on the couch while he hovered over me, his hands a glorious sensation. I know I moaned more than once, but I couldn't help it. I'd never felt so relaxed under those working hands. I felt like I was in a blissful sleep, my eyes sliding shut, my mouth open in a content sigh. I could have drooled it was so good.

And when he stopped I wished for him to continue. But instead I sat up and opened my sleepy eyes to smile at him. He smiled back. I know I hardly smile, he tells me this a lot. And the only time I do is when he is with me and we are alone.

But then, as we become closer, I found him advancing on me. It started about a few months ago on a night of a full moon. I remember I couldn't sleep, probably because of the nightmare I knew I was to have. The moon always brought me memories of my killer in its crimson glow. And it was on this night that when I dreamed of an amethyst embrace, my partner was already in a deep sleep.

Or at least, I thought he was.

He was facing the door while lying on his side this time. I found it odd, knowing I usually slept against his back, since it was always easier to lay myself against him. Plus, if I could see his face I knew I would have always chickened out and went back to my own room. But this time it didn't halt my actions. I swallowed my fears and lifted the comforter in silence, sighing as I let the coolness of the sheets caress my hairless legs.

As usual I cuddled closer and embraced him, only to feel a brief stab at my stomach. That's when I stopped, a little taken back by this new feeling. This was the first time he'd been in this position, so maybe I'd never noticed it. But now that I _did_ I wanted to see what it was. I had a guess, but I was curious. My immature mind didn't have time to register what it _really_ was before it was too late.

And without thinking, I reached between us.

I heard his slight gasp when my fingers briefly brushed against its clothed form, making me jump and pull back.

He asked me then, what I was doing. But I was embarrassed, immediately realizing what it was I had just touched. How could I not have known? God, I had stupid moments like these. And in my state of stuttering he smiled within the darkness and ran his fingers through my hair. He asked with a calming reassurance if I would prefer him to turn back over with his back to me. I answered, "No."

I don't know what possessed me to say it. Maybe it was the courage that was slowly building inside me. Maybe it was that same courage that propelled me to lean forward and place my lips upon his. I'm not sure. But he never pulled away. In fact, I could feel what I could only guess as his tongue against my teeth. Willingly I opened my mouth to let him delve in. I knew what a true kiss was, I just didn't know how to do it right. Luckily for me he never seemed to mind my inexperience.

Unconsciously I let my body rub against his while that simple kiss lasted for many minutes. It deeply aroused me for some reason, just feeling his mouth on mine. Why did I feel this way? It was only a kiss.

Was I feeling his emotions? Was this intense arousal coming from him and not from me? Was he bearing a deep, unsated lust for me at that very moment?

I heard myself breathe his name as I heaved for air through our kisses. Every time we would part I felt the need to feel his lips again. Even if he lusted for me I didn't mind. In fact, I think I liked it. I wanted to feel that arousal penetrate my empathy each time our lips touched in their moist encounters. I could feel the slick saliva traveling down my chin, smearing past the boundaries of my swollen lips. I didn't try to clean myself. I was drowning in his emotions; suffocating in emotions I'd never had the pleasure of feeling.

That's when he pulled back with his hands cradling my face. He chuckled, telling me to slow down. But was I that eager in his eyes? Sure, I realize that maybe I was a bit urgent with my hips in their constant motion. I enjoyed the feel of him against me. Slowly I felt his thumb smearing away that small trail of saliva running down my chin, his smile brightening the room.

His mouth returned to mine soon after, this time slowing his actions. He took my lower lip into his awaiting mouth and sucked gently on it. Those same emotions intensified, making me moan aloud, his name a gasp on my lips.

But on that night, we never went further than those heated kisses of tongue and lips. Though I won't deny I wouldn't let him take away my need for being close to him. I didn't mind feeling the pulsing of that hard object hidden behind silken boxers. It was because I was happy. His position allowed me to lay my head on his chest. And instead of just his scent I could hear his heart as it beat in a steady rhythm, his chest rising and falling with each breath.

It was a little awkward the next morning, having to see the face of the man I'd been in a passionate lip lock with just the night before. But it was also thrilling, knowing all I had to do to feel that ecstasy was arouse him again. Then, when I touched him, I could feel it too. Though, we never let our forming relationship affect our work. No one knew we were involved, not like that. It helped, I think. It helped to build my courage further without all the teasing and torment I would have been subjected to if the others had known about us.

With each passing night we grew closer and closer to something I'd only gone through once; intercourse.

After that first night of kissing on that full moon of crimson, we strayed from intimacy. At first it was my partner but when I found myself absent mindedly pulling away from him I realized…it was me. I was still so afraid of touch, no matter how much I wanted to be with him. I wanted to have a normal relationship, I really did. But sometimes I just couldn't shake the nausea from my being when he came near.

Soon however, I found myself encouraging him once again, despite my own fears. A few weeks after that night, some emotion that had been lying dormant inside me blossomed. I'd laid awake on my own bed in the silent night, only thoughts of _him_ in my wandering mind. I found myself sighing, my chest heavy.

When I crawled in beside him on this new night I tried to coax him awake, my hands wandering over his chest while I nuzzled his back. My body was warm with an intense feeling, deep and vibrant in my chest. It tugged at my heart.

Was it love, this emotion?

I whispered his name, wanting him to embrace me. I wanted so bad for him to hold me close and never let go. I wanted to know he wouldn't leave me, to tell me he needed me as much as I needed him. I wanted comfort to make up for all the years I'd gone without. But it seemed he was more tired than I thought. I was timid and shy still, my fingertips hesitant to touch. I knew my fears of intercourse and touch were intense and I knew they were related to Muraki. But when I was with Tsuzuki…I felt…different. He didn't scare me or force me. He let me come to him, something I rather enjoyed. I never felt pressured to do something and maybe that's why it was easy for me to experiment with touching him now.

I whispered his name louder, my hands tugging at his clothed chest. I was louder still the following time when he continues to remain oblivious of my presence, shaking him a bit.

And finally, _finally_, he wakes up. He rubs his tired eyes, asking me if I've had a nightmare. I can tell he is concerned for me when he shifts to turn around, his arms immediately coming around me to bring me to his open chest. I nod and reply with a "yes". Silently I am letting him know I want to feel comforted. And he does without any obligation.

Yes, this is what I wanted, to feel him against me. I whisper his name again, this time into the fabric covering his chest. I can feel his calming breathes against my hair as he cradles me. I know he is still tired because I feel his consciousness slipping away, back into that peaceful slumber. He is still holding me even though he is falling back asleep. I feel content in his arms, his emotions a quelling bout of softened happiness and affection.

But I don't think I want him to fall back asleep. No, I want him to give me more than just a comforting hug on this night. So I do something again without thinking, something I know will get his attention. I let my hands fall on the base of his spine so I can pull his hips to mine, trying to make it seem accidental. He enjoys feeling friction, so I will give him it in hopes he will kiss me. If I can get his attention maybe he will try to coax me into other things, things I don't have the courage to start myself.

He shifts momentarily but does nothing. And I'm not sure I have enough courage to try it again. There are two reasons for this; I don't want to start something I can't finish, and I'm too embarrassed to act like that. Only common sluts do that, and that is something I am not.

I feel like I can do no more but lay against him. So I do, attempting to fall asleep. But it's difficult when I want him to do…more than that. I don't know exactly _what_ I want him to do. Only that I want more than this. I want him to show me his love, maybe with his lips again. I liked that feeling. It made me feel wanted and important in an odd kind of way.

But I was forced to sleep without his kiss that night.

As fate would have it I had a terrible nightmare the night after. It was another of Muraki on that night under that horrid cherry tree. Only this time I felt like I couldn't wake up, like it was a reality I didn't want to believe in. That night, Tsuzuki came to my bed upon hearing my desperate cries. I awoke to his figure hovering over me, face contorted with concern and hands gripping my shoulders. I was still so afraid then, even with him there. That nightmare had felt a little too real for me to just whisk it out of my mind.

I was crying. I could feel the fresh hot tears fall from my half lidded eyes as I continued to sob helplessly, my breath shaky as I gasped for the air I failed to get enough of.

While I slept I always had on a dim light so I wouldn't have to feel afraid. I hated the darkness, it made me feel anxious. In the darkness I can't tell where I am and I hate feeling helpless and lost like that. So a small light is all I need to fall asleep.

Needless to say I still, even with that dim light, felt a little anxiously on the edge. What if I had another nightmare like that and Tsuzuki wasn't around? Oh, my heart was beating violently in my chest. I tried to catch my breath but I couldn't. My body was chilled and sweaty to my partner's hands. I hated it when he had to see me like this. I hated it more when my cursed marks appeared over my skin. It was then, before he was able to see them, I'd make up an excuse to get him to leave briefly before he could see.

But on this night, he refused to leave my side. I got angry at him then, yelling for him to leave me alone. But he wouldn't. When the marks flared to life I felt myself cry even harder, my cheeks burning with a stinging embarrassment. I felt ugly and used then, with the marks forever ruining my immortally young body. He stared for a moment, his eyes trailing over the dimly lit naked traces of skin beneath my nightly clothes.

Then, he asked me to take off my clothes.

I was shocked at his calm request. I was shocked and scared. He'd never asked something like this of me before, so why now? Why did he want me naked on this night?

When I didn't move he asked me again, a duplicate of the first time he'd said it. When I asked him why he merely stated he wanted to 'cure' me. I think I scoffed at his silly declaration but he looked at me in serious determination. I swallowed hard, hesitant for a while in silence. But…I complied.

Slowly I began to unbuttoned my white top, gasping when his hands reached out to help me and carefully slid it from my body. I was feeling self conscious as he studied the deep marks on my skin.

I stood, hesitating before sliding my bottoms down to the floor. I could feel my cheeks burning and my stomach was doing flip-flops. I was shaky and a bit unbalanced, feeling awkward in my movements. My breaths came out in hurried pants as I nearly fell, feeling extremely light headed. I can honestly say I didn't like knowing his eyes were on me this time. It actually scared me…a little.

Ok, _a lot_.

I nearly chocked back a sob when he told me to remove my boxers too. Now that, I couldn't do. It was one thing to be mostly naked with a thousand scars cascading along my body while I stood as some kind of portrait for my partner. But it was another to be standing completely naked in front of him.

I saw his figure move to help me without my consent, his smooth hands trying to pull my boxers down. He whispered in my ear to relax, that he wasn't Muraki. I guess if I didn't have to see myself, it was better to block it out. And that's exactly what I did when I finally gave up my struggles and let him strip the last article of clothing from me, trying to hide my face in the crook of his neck. I felt his hands brushing against my skin as he slid them down to my feet. Then, he was embracing me, his arms hooked around the biggest marks along my back.

He laid me on the bed with ease before sliding in next to me. There he brought me close, his hands smoothing out over my marks. He whispered to me as he did this, holding me close. Then, his mouth descended upon my naked chest, his tongue darting out to lick the marks along my skin. He said he wanted to take my pain from me; to heal the wounds that hurt me so.

I couldn't help my continuous tears when that tongue traveled along my body. I couldn't halt my plea for him to stop, saying that I a used and broken doll didn't deserve to be healed.

Without any hesitation he said I was beautiful, with and without the marks. Through his mouth I could feel the vibration of those words as they came from deep inside his chest; inside his heart. He said I shouldn't worry, that not even Muraki could make me ugly. To him, I was the most beautiful creature he'd laid eyes on, and I was someone he felt deeply for.

He couldn't take away the marks, he said. But he would take away the pain they brought from me with his hands; his mouth. I was flush against his sideways form on my bed now with his hands caressing my back. My leg slid over his of its own will, my face buried in his chest. I was still so embarrassed, but not because he was touching me. It was because of his words.

He didn't want me to hide and runaway. He wanted to show me he loved every part of me. He pulled me away to look into my tearful eyes.

That's when he began to kiss me again.

It was exactly what I had been waiting for this past few weeks, to feel his lips on mine. But somehow it felt different. I couldn't feel that same excitement as I had before. I could only feel the light affection and adoration. I couldn't understand why.

But he decides to give my excitement another way; those hands. They make their way to massage at the tip of my hips. At first I tense up. But when his experienced hands began their work I was lulled from my worries. I was so out of it when he rolled me onto my back, his mouth on my neck, that I never tried to stop him. I had even forgotten that I was purely naked, with him on top of me.

My eyes were closed with the sensations. It was very different from what I'd felt from him. Maybe because now, the emotions were purely _mine_. They were a vibrant array of sensations that coursed through my heated blood. I reveled in the way his tongue circled my skin, his mouth sucking tenderly.

I can't help but pant his name. His mouth is as skilled as his hands, making me feel both relaxed and excited. I shudder when my name glides across my neck in a warm breath.

I love the seriousness in his voice. It gives a nice deep tone to it, a sound that makes me shiver. Sure, I enjoy his usual happy-go-lucky self, but it's when he is so serious that I find myself unable to act. In a way, he's unpredictable.

My hands try to halt his delicately so I have time to steady my breathing. Here, I ask him to stop; it's too much.

He asks me why, but listens. I tell him I want to dress now, and he lets me. But his eyes never leave me as I do. It makes me feel a little uneasy with him staring at my nakedness. I try to hide my more…private areas with my clothes. He only smiles at this and lets out a small chuckle.

He wants to know if I still want to sleep with him on this night. I blush, my head in the gutter only for a moment before I answer with a "Yes". And soon, I am in his arms again on my bed. I guess for tonight he will stay here with me.

Though, it was going to get rougher than I thought.

I don't quite remember how it happened that night, only that I ended up staring at the ceiling with half lidded eyes while he moved inside me. He was on top of me, my legs spread wide on either side of him. My hands were gripping his shoulder blades in every gentle thrust. That tongue had returned to finish what it had started on various places over my neck and sending me into a blissful state of ecstasy. I could feel the bed steadily rocking with us, dancing with our bodies.

I moaned, my hands moving down to try and force him in deeper. It only felt right with him. Muraki was a violation and a terrible scar that had been set deep inside me, whereas Tsuzuki felt like the medicine I had been waiting for to finally heal my incurable illness. It felt nice.

It's interesting to know just how long his sex drive is. You wouldn't be able to tell by looking at him but it seems like hours before he joins me in reaching that complete state of euphoria. My first time with him, I'd already reached my limit once before he reached to pull me up into a sitting position with him. He stopped then, holding me in his arms and inhaling the scent of my hair with his head buried in my neck. I felt him breathe my name in a sigh, his hands sliding down to grasp my hips.

We stayed like that for a while. It was new for me, feeling his erection pulsing inside me, unmoving. It was strange and new and yet somehow oddly comforting. I felt his heavy breaths against the sensitive skin of my neck, his voice a bit hoarse.

Then, it was my turn. I decided I wanted to give him as much pleasure as he'd given to me. Lethargically I bounced in his lap, carefully watching his calm expression when he pulled back with a groan of appreciation. His eyes were closed, his mouth open slightly. His hands were gripping my hips, helping me to move the way he wanted. Then, his eyes were on me as I continued. My hands were gripping his shoulders, my nails digging mercilessly into his skin. And yet not once did he voice that pain.

I couldn't help but slow my actions, even with my renewed erection springing to life. My thighs ached and my abs was drawn together in a tight flex of muscles. I was already exhausted, my muscles strained. He shifted to give himself better room when he decided to once again dominate me. And I could only whimper at his stamina in gentle every thrust. But even that wasn't enough to cause his climax. I thought it was maybe because he was holding back.

I asked his between breaths why he was being easy with me. Was it because he thought of me as fragile as glass? Did he not want to break me? His answer was in a whisper.

"I don't want to force my love onto you; I want to ease you into it…so you can feel it."

I smiled at his answer, feeling for the first time truly content. I was extremely embarrassed when he pulled out, asking me to turn over. I have to admit it the new pose was a bit awkward and unflattering, yet there was something about it that excited me further. My last sight of him was of himself stroking his own erection, keeping it hard until he entered me once more from behind. I was flush against the sheets, my legs evenly spread for him. His chest and abdomen was rubbing sensually along my back with his increased speed.

Finally I feel him begin to thrust more forcefully, his self control beginning to break. His breath was hot against my neck with his tongue lapping at my skin. Those rough hands alternated between gripping my hips and massaging the area around them. I tried to move against him, feeling my second orgasm nearing. And I welcomed it with the satin feel of silken sheets to cushion my own thrusting.

This time when that time came I was not able to soften my lustrous moans, my muscles contracting painfully. My knees bent slightly this time, my body pressing into the mattress. Behind me I heard my partner's moan. I had guessed he enjoyed my orgasm more than I did with my clenching opening tightening in spasms around his erection.

He had given up total control now, his strength sending me further into the mattress. My face was in the sheets, my own strength depleted. It was a while after he'd continued to speed up he'd finally reached his orgasm. And I lay still on my mattress while trying to catch my breath as his semen warmed my insides.

I think I let out a whimper of a sigh then, feeling that completion. Maybe it was because I did love him. I wasn't sure but I knew I would want to feel him inside me again on other nights.

Then, after he'd caught his breath, he pulled out from me and sat up, pulling me up in a sitting position into his lap. He asked me if he'd hurt me. He said he wanted to make sure I wasn't uncomfortable. I could only shake my head in my weakened state, silently whispering my satisfaction.

But this was only the first nights of many that he'd touched me in such a way it caused my body to overload. No, it was true it had been the first to start our real relationship but I knew it would not be the last. And every time he made love to me I found myself falling deeper in love with him. The hugs, the kisses, the sweet talk, and that erotic serious voice of his…

Once while I was sitting on the couch and watching TV he'd slid gracefully onto the cushion beside me. His lips were whispering hot words into my ear, his body brushing against mine in warm shivers of searing pleasure. I remember that I couldn't stop smiling. I was blushing badly, even through my smiles. But he said it was cute; only adding to my 'boyish' charm. He took a hold of my face within his hands, his thumb tracing my bottom lip. I will admit; he is very bold and forward when he wants to be. When he wants to touch me, he does. And when he wants to do other things…

I allow him.

Before we were involved like this I can remember being so shy of him. When he was near me I would easily anger and yell. He always made me flush, sometimes just with a single glance. But back then I didn't know what my bodily signs were trying to tell me. Now, I get it. Maybe that's why we are getting along better.

Now I can see how badly he's wanted me for so long. It's much easier to spot his glances as something other than exceptional friendliness when I know he feels deeply for me. You know, it's funny. Never once has he spoken his love for me. Those three timid words have never past his lips and yet I know he means it in his silence. His actions alone give me enough reason to believe he isn't just using me. His mind says it also, when his emotions whisper sweet nothings into my senses.

Although…when we are alone in the dark I often find myself frightened. When he touches me I have to use my empathy, just to make sure he doesn't become someone else. That way I know I don't have to feel afraid when his mouth slides down my skin. And when he draws into his mouth my most sensitive organ I need to feel his expression with the tips of my fingers.

Sometimes, I think I'm selfish. Sometimes I find myself thinking that my partner had no choice but to love me. After all, I deserve it more than anybody else, right? But that is selfish to think that way. And yet every night I coax him into loving me again. I'm gradually trying to fill the enormous hole in my heart by burying myself in his emotions day after night and night after day. Even then I feel like it will never be enough to satisfy me.

Once, Tsuzuki had denied me. I think that hurt the most, having to look into his eyes while he firmly stated he didn't he didn't want to sleep with me. He said then, that sex wasn't the only way of getting love. And that it was wrong of me to continuously come to him for 'that kind' of love.

I was silent then, embarrassed that I'd been turned down. But I knew he was right…I'm only selfish. I was wrong to think he should be the one to give me everything.

I fell into a deep depression that night as I lay in the dark on my bed. It was colder without him by my side but somehow I felt I deserved it. Everything he said kept running through my mind with my insecurities bringing me down.

Was I not attractive enough?

Was I ugly in his eyes but he just refused to let it be known? When he made love to me was he wishing it to be over soon? Was it the reason he took so long to orgasm, because he wasn't attracted to me?

I buried my face into the softness of the pillow and sighed. But it bounced back.

There was another way to love?

If he didn't want to sleep with me anymore, then did that mean he was going to stop loving me? What else could I do with him to gain his love back? I didn't know. I'd never learned how to love. But when Muraki took my virginity he said…he loved me. But he also hurt me. So I'm confused. If Muraki loved me, then love is supposed to hurt? Is that why I am in pain now?

But then, if that's true, then why is it Tsuzuki never hurt me?

I hate feeling this way…

On this night I had sat up in bed, my mind no longer able to take the depression. I was cold and alone without my partner beside me. I didn't like it. So I made my predictable trip to his room, making sure to be as quiet as possible. But before I could get in beside him he turned to me. He took one look at me before rolling back over, telling me he wasn't going to sleep with me tonight.

I could have sworn I heard him scoff, maybe in disgust.

This made me outraged. I felt the anger rise in my stomach and the bile in the back of my throat. Angrily I stomped my foot, my words loud and hurtful. I felt the tears gather at the corners of my eyes, waiting for the perfect moment to fall.

"I didn't come here to sleep with you; I just wanted to lay by you!"

Every time my foot hit the floor it hit hard. I was so mad at him for jumping to conclusions. I had stormed out of his room; slamming his door with such force it nearly caught my fingers. I couldn't believe what he'd said. It wasn't his monotone voice that hurt me, it was his words.

Alone I sat on the floor beside my bed, hugging my knees to my chest. My tiredness did little to distract me from diving in further, further into that dark pit of depression. That single emotion created the very sobs that tore through my throat in every breath, burning my esophagus with every gasp of air.

Childishly I wanted to go back and hit him as hard as I could. I wanted him to feel pain for what he'd done to me. He'd hurt my feelings. But I didn't have the courage to go through with it.

Suddenly I heard my name being called, barely above a whisper. My head jerked up to look into familiar pools of amethyst, filled with regret. He apologized while he knelt before me, but I refused to accept it. I only screamed some more, telling him over and over again, "I hate you."

It was the only coherent sentence that was forming through my swirling thoughts and emotions. And when he tried to touch me I swung at him in a blind rage, my breathing harsh. I couldn't breathe, at least not with a combination of my intense anger and my sobbing. My head was pounding so hard it felt as though someone was pounding a drum inside my mind. My pants turned to wheezing quick, forcing me to stop and hide away from him until I was able to catch my breath. By then I was embarrassed. I was embarrassed even to bring my head up in his view, so I didn't. I just wanted him to go away and leave me alone…

But he didn't.

He spoke lightly, maintaining his distance from me. He apologized again in his casual voice, saying that he didn't realize he'd hurt me. And I spat back at him, hatefully choking out my words.

"I just wanted to lie beside you, that's all. You didn't have to be so rude to me."

His only excuse was being too tired to fully register the situation and at the time he thought I had come for pleasure. I assured him the exact opposite. I told him I just didn't want to be alone, that I hated not having him with me. I apologized for not knowing what love was or how to love. I also apologized for asking too much of him when clearly I was being selfish. I talked of my intense need to be with him, and sometimes how when I thought of him my chest felt tight. I told him I didn't want him to go away. I wanted him with me; even if he secretly thought I was unattractive.

But I never asked him to forgive me.

No, I didn't deserve to be forgiven, not for this. And yet despite that, he did. He tried his best to pull me close, his chin on my head and his hand in my hair. He said then, that _'that'_ was love. He explained;

Love is the feeling you get when you feel warm in your chest and when just thinking about that person makes you happy. You want to be with them because you can't live without them. And intercourse happens when you both need a release. Though it is an act of love, it is physical. And usually it ends up ruining relationships. Love is when you just want to spend time with that person. Maybe you are watching a movie together while cuddling on the couch, or going on an outing for a few hours. Maybe you are taking a trip to spend a couple of days away from work, or you buy that special gift for them as a surprise. You maybe fight every once in a while, but actually it is a good thing. No two people can ever agree on everything. Some even say, "The more you fight, the closer you are." But no matter what, you will be there for that person and help them. You will be with them through both the good and the bad times, hold them when they cry, and help them get to sleep. _That_ is love.

"And _love_ is all I feel for you, Hisoka."

After his speech, I'd stopped crying. I found myself once more content in his arms, listening to his heart beating swiftly in his chest. My eyes were closed, tears streaming down my face. I grasped his night clothes like they were my only lifeline, my only sanctuary. He returned my slow affection with his hands rubbing my back in a circular motion.

It was after this night I came to realize what we felt towards each other was mutual. And for the first time the person I loved was _returning_ the affection. He was helping me to recognize the differences in my emotions. Slowly that eternal hole in my heart was finding closure in his warmth. My insecurities were confirmed to be adolescent fears and my partner continued to shower me with attention.

When we were alone he'd often give me massages and try to get me to eat sweets. Midnight movies always lead up to a little more than affectionate cuddling on that old couch. He never let me sleep alone, always ready to wake and comfort me if I were to have another nightmare.

And the next time we had intercourse, _he_ came to _me_.

It felt better this time. Maybe because I no longer felt like I couldn't handle the concept of love any longer. With me on my knees and my back against his chest I felt him in every thrust of his hips. His hands were on both my torso and chest to keep me steady as I was knelt on all fours, my legs drawn apart as wide as I could will them.

When his thrusts became more eager I had to rely on his arms to keep me in place. Still I tried to station myself in place, digging my nails into the sheets. I was panting his name, my excitement staining the clean sheets in tiny pools of salted milk.

But I had to ask him something that had been a terrible nick in the back of my mind; why was he always taking so long every time we did this?

His answer?

"I like to prolong the feel of you until I can't take it anymore, that way the feeling is more intense in the end."

He stopped briefly to kiss the back of my neck, deeply inhaling my scent. Relentlessly he picked up his speed, his hand as forceful as he while he pumped my erection. My helpless whimper was the only sound I could make as my body shook for the second time in complete euphoria. My breath stuttered with each pass of breath, my face drawn taut and rigid. I couldn't stop my body from bucking against him, my head thrown back.

I relished the feel of him filling me once more. For every other time I thought I was trying to mend what I'd lost, I realized that I was only making it worse. But now...

I could have cried at the feeling.

Just then, he replied to a question I'd never asked.

That I was one to be savored.

I blushed.


End file.
